


Year of the Tiger

by took_skye



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abstinence, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Collars, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Feral Behavior, Food Sex, Genderswap, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Knifeplay, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutants, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Shapeshifting, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16419566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: Covering a year - approximately 12 months - of a relationship between Loki and a mutant with the ability to shape-shift into a tiger. (One may read this as Loki with an original character or Loki with a Mutant!Reader.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is mainly a “how they first met” prologue ; after this I’ll jump into set months.

“By gods…” the voice is deep, masculine, but soft. Gentle. “You’re beautiful.“

The metal teeth of the trap is buried so deep and has been for so long now that your leg's gone numb. You’d thought to take the chance of changing back to human form, but that will surely cause your leg to snap in two…perhaps sever it completely. This is painful, every breath hurts, but at least you're alive.

“Loki!” Another male voice calls, deeper, louder, more impatient. “Loki, what on Midgard are you doing?!” His boots stomp forward, too fast, and instinct releases a warning growl from deep inside you.

“Easy girl…” the first voice, presumably that of Loki, soothes. “We mean you no harm.”

You hear the other stop. “Is that a tiger?”

“No, it’s a fish.” Loki’s eyes roll as you finally dare to open yours. He believes your animal form the true one and acts accordingly; crouching a respectable distance away with sweet smile and keen gaze. You take in the black hair, green eyes, and leather garb that matches both. He is not of this world, you’re certain of it, but if he can help you he can be from the seventh ring of hell for all you care. “We should release her.”

“Noooo,” the other, the blond in red and black steel, declares. You growl, he steps back. “See, it’s dangerous. It’ll eat us.”

Loki turns head slightly. “Perhaps, if you weren’t so offensive…”

“Offensive? Loki, it’s a tiger! Tigers don’t get offended, they’re animals.”

On his feet he turns fully. “Animals feel.”

“Offended?”

“Yes.” The two stand, at an impasse, before Loki turns back. “Just because it’s not like you doesn’t mean it can’t feel as you do.” He crouches once again, you groan as the muscles of your left hindquarter twitch in pain, causing blades to sink in a fraction more and fresh blood to spill. “I’ll just…” you watch his hand slowly move towards you and tense warily. “Shhh…it’s all right, darling, I’m here to help. I’ll not harm you, I swear it.”

A drowsiness begins to flood your body. The pain fades as chilly air slips into your lungs in the most wonderful way. A deep sense of peace overcomes you and eyes slip close with a heavy, relaxed, breath.


	2. March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“my prince…my king”_

You doze on silken bed in his private quarters, awaiting his return. It’s accompanying nightly ritual. He’ll come in, you’ll rise from oversized cat-bed, and he’ll smile wide. You’ll brush against his legs, nuzzle as he bends down with a mischievous grin to pet and scratch behind your ears. The same phrase will coo from his lips - “Have you been good, darling? I hope not.” - then a chuckle as you purr loudly. You’ll watch him get ready to sleep, settle at the side of his bed, and let your breath match his until you fall to dreaming.

It’s simple, but the only ritual you can recall truly having. It makes Asgard feel more like home than Earth; Loki like the first you can truly, consistently, depend on…

Then his door opens and you can’t.

Female giggles mix with Loki’s as feet trip and stumble into the room. He’s drunk, so’s she, and it makes their kisses wet and sloppy. It makes them too amused by missteps and awkward grabs for one another. It makes them both completely forget you’re in the room. You! The fucking tiger!!

Your first instinct is to tear the little whore apart…you’ve clearly stayed in this form far too long. You swallow down possessive thoughts and enraged growls. You may be Loki’s, but Loki is not yours. You shrink, hide amongst pillows, to watch with a hunter's eye. She makes one wrong move, you’ll tear her throat out.

Loki tips back onto his bed, bringing the woman with him, as hands grow greedy with her dress. Up up up until you can see the plump curve of her bared ass in silhouette. Loki grabs, squeezes, gives just the tiniest slap that makes her squeak and giggle. Pathetic little tramp. (You’ve never been so jealous.)

She bares herself completely, rocks hips and works the buckles and straps of his Asgardian garb. Hands run across his smooth skin; you can hear the lightest dragging of her nails through his chest hair. She moans, addresses him as “my prince…my king”. He pulls her in for a growling kiss.

You swallow a growl of your own, but still can’t take your eyes away as, bit by bit, Loki is exposed. Between shadows and moonlight you see the outlines of them as she rolls like waves. Her breasts swing, brush his chest, in shared kiss. There’s a flash of his length, swinging, leaning under its own weight. You lick lips, feel an all-too-human desire spark and tingle inside of you, as you imagine your mouth the one working down his chest.

Hair trailing, teasing, behind she continues as Loki’s groans increase. Louder, more frequent, more demanding. You catch the twitch, that jolt of his immeasurable pleasure, when her lips finally reach their destination. She teases with tongue snaking out to brush, flick, the tip of his cock. Sheets shift, bed creaks, as Loki’s back makes an arch you can see under.

You imagine it’s you. Your name rolling off his tongue as yours swirls his length, tastes the first drops of his desire. His chest heaves, hand goes to the back of your head encouragingly, as he pants and groans. You imagine it’s not her, but you, he’s so clearly enjoying. You shift, press hind legs together, in attempt to find relief for your own growing arousal. You try. You imagine him with you, but it’s not enough.

Jealousy roils your thoughts. You hate her. You hate she’s doing this to him, that she gets to. Her name is mush in his mouth and, as every inch of him disappears into the shadows of her mouth, he looses speech completely. You hate he’s not doing that for you.

“I…I…” Loki’s lean muscles shift in and out of place rapidly, his controls slipping fast.

The servant pulls off with a slurping pop. “Fuck me, your majesty.” It’s something between an order and beg that causes your eyes to roll. What a fucking cliché.

Nevertheless, Loki obliges. Grabs her, pulls her up and brings her back down under him. You see his hand disappear between them and she grabs his back, moans out his name. Soon a groan is shared between them with his entry, his first slow movements inside her.

His hair curtains her face, her neck, her chest as you hear his mouth dote between shared moans. The peaks of her breasts disappear into his mouth, she whimpers, then cries as legs wrap around his waist. He growls, suckles, moves into her with slightly more speed, slightly more force.

Sex stains the air, the sweet smell of him and the stench of her mingle. You close your eyes, rest your head down, as you listen. They hit a rhythm quickly - they’ve done this before, you hate it - and soon you’re able to time their breaths with your own. You imagine your name on his lips, his mouth marking, tongue indulging in your taste. You imagine Loki’s cock inside of you, filling you, as he moans how incredible you feel.

You try. You imagine him with you, but it’s not enough. You’re in the wrong form and unable to switch out just yet. Tomorrow you’ll remember this, you’ll replay it over and over until satisfied. It won’t be the same, but it’ll be something. It’ll be enough until you find a way to reveal your true self to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be pieces where she's is not a tiger, I promise, haha!


	3. April

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Is that what you want, my pet?”_

They come charging in, ready to battle the intruder Heimdall saw appear from thin air, but find only you. Fresh from the shower, soaking wet, tiger collar on, but otherwise completely nude you. They blink, stare with mouths half-open, for what feels like an eternity until Loki glances to his brother.

“Stop staring.”

“I’m not staring, you’re staring.”

“You are absolutely staring, Thor.”

“You’re both staring!” You snap-growl.

The brothers jump before their eyes start darting about. Thor decides the carpet is something he’s never seen before while Loki prefers the ceiling. You shift, wishing to change back to a tiger or grab some of Loki’s clothes…anything to cover yourself. Yet you stay, worried any movement may put them back on edge.

“Are you a sorcerer?”

“No, I…” you sigh at Loki’s question. “I…I’m a mutant.”

“A mutant?”

“Ah, Bruce told me of these, brother!” Thor chimes in, delighted to have knowledge Loki did not. “They are Midgardians given various powers due to aberrations in their genetics.”

“I’m not an aberration,” you growl. That's just another word for “freak” and “wrong” and all those things you’ve been called over the years.

Thor grins, oblivious to your growing displeasure. “I’m not calling you an aberration, I’m just saying, in your make-up, there are aberr -”

“SHUT UP!!” It’s a roar, the tiger underneath revealing itself in predator eyes and bared fangs.

“Perhaps…” Loki’s amusement tints his voice. “You should avoid that word, brother.”

Thor’s smile falls into regret. “I did not mean to offend…Tiger.” Loki never gave you a name; you’ve yet to give your own. “I only meant to say that…”

A warning rumble exits from your chest; your eyes sharpen, muscles tighten, as more animalistic instincts surface. You’re stressed, exposed, feeling under attack…logic knows Thor’s no threat, instinct doesn’t care.

Loki senses it and, as much as such a battle might normally delight him, he does not wish trouble or pain on you. “Perhaps you should leave altogether?” He breaks in with a smile. “Someone needs to inform Heimdall and others that we are, in fact, not under attack.”

“True,” Thor concedes with a wary smile. “Until we meet again…Tiger.”

You nod, gaze predatory as the blonde Asgardian slips out, closing the door behind him.

Loki clears his throat and you turn attention to him. “You slipped past Heimdall, you deceived everyone in this land…you even tricked me.” He’s beyond pleased, he’s impressed. His lips take a turn towards the devious. “You must really enjoy being my pet…”

“What do you mean?”

“Look how hard you worked not to be discovered, darling.” A chuckle rumbles his chest, he slinks forward. “And you wear my collar even now.”

“If I could get some clothes…” You blush embarrassment even as the drive to cover up is underwhelming; you know Loki, you know he would not take liberties.

“Oh no…” another chuckle. “I much prefer this.”

“I’m sure you do.” You offer, smirking at Loki’s cheekiness. Yet, as he continues to close in, you grow silent. Redness and heat spread across your body and you begin to shift, unsure. It’s one thing to want something, to fantasize about having it, to be jealous of those who do…it’s quite another to discover it wants you back.

Just as when you’d been a tiger he moves slowly, cautiously, respectfully. His amusement fades to intensity as he takes you in. You still look so much like his tiger; keen eyes and powerful build set into the curves of a woman. Ginger hair with black streaks hold the pattern of the fur you once had. You even breathe the same: sharp inhale with a low, purring, exhale. Loki’s fingers run over collar, brush the skin of your neck.

You heart slams your chest, efforts to remain still are ruined by shudders of your body. You can feel the heat inside ratchet, swell, as the first pinpricks of desire develop between your thighs. You want to pounce, make him yours.

“By gods…” his smile returns, hand continuing up to graze cheek and jawline. “You’re beautiful.” His beautiful tiger. He leans in, pauses his lips inches from yours. “May I?”

Patience slips, you close the gap with a fervor that has Loki briefly searching for his footing. He takes control of the kiss, slows and softens it, as he grabs hold of hair and presses in. Hand prevents head from hitting the wall before it slides back down to your neck. He doesn’t attempt to remove the collar, only plays with it as you purr encouragement.

Long, strong, nails fare much better against Loki’s garb than most, quickly undoing or clawing through leather straps and metal clasps. His amusement rumbles into your mouth as tongues battle and dance both. Every bit of skin made newly available is explored. He’s different in the daylight, there are hints that he is not from your world. A perfection in the skin, but also a chill. You run hot, most feel colder to you, but Loki’s feel is significant. Like ice. It makes you want to melt him.

Hand at collar holds you back against the wall. He’s smiling, he’s not cross, he just…wishes to admire. The fingers of his other hand trail shoulder, down arm. They retrace, then detour to collarbone. He watches your chest as you pant, slides the back of his hand down the slope of your breast. His smile grows at your frustrated growl, more when it turns to a moan as nipple hardens at his touch. Loki cups, squeezes, pinches until a very human gasp slips out of you.

“Loki…” Unable to step forward and retake control, you turn attention to leather-encased cock. His jolted grunt, the swift hardening of his length against your palm, cause both of you to moan. Your hands pop trouser-stitching and, the moment able, one slips in.

His own growl falls into a groan, then rumbles back to life as you stroke. As if in revenge he takes a breast into his mouth, bites carefully and teases relentlessly. A hand runs down your stomach, waist, outer thighs, before turning in and finding soft curls to match the ginger and black-striped hair elsewhere.

The touch is barely there, but it shivers you to the core. Evidence of arousal grows, spills down your thighs, as you press all of yourself into him. “Fuck…” you growl, then gasp as two fingers slide easily across your folds, curl at clit causing you to jump. They slip inside and its your body melting for him. “Fuck me.”

Teeth mark a nipple before his tongue swirls, lips dote back up to your shoulder. Forest-green eyes look into yours before he moves lips to your ear. “Is that what you want, my pet? For your master to fuck you?”

A growl and shoving of his pants farther down are your only reply.

“Tell me,” he orders, letting all clothing of his merely fade away.

“Please…” Your lips curl into a grin, he catches sight of your fangs. “Master.” The smile he gives back is the opportunity you take, finally seizing his lips with yours once again.

You lift leg, wrap it up around his waist, pull him in closer. You catch the scent of yourself as fingers continue to pump in and out of your cunt. One arm swings around his neck, grips across his shoulders, as you lift yourself slightly. There’s a brief emptiness as fingers leave, then a slow filling as he takes his time entering inch by inch. A feral growl rumbles into his mouth as you feel every vein, every ridge, every pump of blood through his cock. …It’s more than you expected, better than you dreamed.

Loki’s hand grips your ass, your leg tightens around him, as he pauses to indulge. Indulge in the sensation of being inside something, someone, so beautiful. You fit, feel, like you were made for him. Tight, oh-so warm, and wet everywhere. A roll of your body sets off a long moan, reminds him there is so much more to enjoy.

Hips move smooth as a snake, nearly pull him out before plunging his cock deep again. You’re not a tiger anymore, but still his pet. The thought, the knowledge, spurs Loki on. Free hand goes to your collar, curls to hold it, but he’s careful not to tug. He feels the growls that vibrate out of you, the hammering of your pulse against his fingers; his whole body fucks faster, with increasing demand.

An intoxication sets in as your scents mix, as moans spill from his lips in hot breaths at your neck. His tongue flicks to collect sweat, you dig in nails just a fraction causing him to shudder against you. Your insides have turned to fire, excitement melts out of you, and you bare teeth into his flesh over and over. The walls of your cunt start to flutter and, when ass-griping hand turns its attention to your clit, builds a frantic friction, the orgasm roars out of you.

Hearing the roar of his Tiger, feeling the strength with which you hold him deep inside, overwhelms all but a fraction of the control he has left. That fraction is what keeps him from choking you as his hand goes from collar to hair. Swollen cock pulses, then melts its seed inside you as you arch into his final thrusts.

He collapses you both into the wall, you share pants, as his hand slowly lowers back to the collar. There’s a tingling against your neck; the sensation of the collar changes from leather to lace and velvet, the weight of ID tag increases as a jewel takes its place.

“My Tiger,” he mutters into your neck.

“My God,” you pant in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a dozen different versions of how Loki found out, but I really liked this one as it amused me, haha! I figured Heimdall didn’t notice her initially because, as a tiger, her existence (DNA??) reads as such even to him so only after she turned human to shower did he truly see her.


	4. May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Tell me you’re mine.”_

“Why you wicked little thing,” Loki smiles in delight as you lounge amongst the flowers by the lake. There’s still a sheen of water sparkling in across your skin, dampening dress to allow glimpses of nipples and sex underneath.

You give a laugh before sighing. “Way I see it, if people are going to talk shit about you, might as well give them something to talk about.”

Loki’s smile fades. “Are people speaking ill of you here?” He settles beside you with a troubled face.

Wonderful, you’ve managed to completely kill the mood in seconds flat. “Don’t worry about it, it happens.” It always happens. People find out the truth about what you are, your feral side shows, and you’re no longer the woman with a intriguing feline appearance. You’re a beast, a danger.

“Who is it? Thor? Father?”

“No, they’re fine.” Both are curious about your kind, but actually very polite; Thor downright sweet. “Mostly it’s the women. Not your mom or Sif, they’re great, but more…you know…” You can’t help but smile a fraction, put on a mocking face. “The Ladies.”

“Ah.” Loki understands immediately. The ladies of the court, even the servants, were a rather snobbish bunch and you did not fit their ideals of a lady. “Well, sod them, they’re fools. They don’t matter.”

“Funny given you’ve bedded over half of them,” you sneer slightly.

His eyes widen, face reddens, and lips curl in guilt. “I was a different man then.”

“Two months ago?”

“Before I met you…truly met you.” He moves to lie back, smiles as he tucks wet hair behind your ears. “You know, this is rather new to me.”

“Relationships?” You half-tease.

“Well, yes, actually,” he chuckles. “But I meant not being the viciously jealous one.”

A chuckle moves your chest in ways that tempt him. “I’m not viciously jealous.”

“You destroyed the garments of every woman I brought to bed, or did you think I’d not notice the pattern simply because you were a tiger?”

“Yeah, well…” You didn’t have a good counter, in fact you had no counter. It was completely true. A cocky laugh begins to shake through Loki and, though you join, you decide to flip the tables. Rolling on top of him you smirk down with hands on his chest. “You’re mine and mine alone. Next woman I find in your bed is getting more than her garments shredded.”

His face goes dead serious. “You’ll never find another in my bed…” This time he calls you by your true name before kissing you. You lean down into it and his hand finds your hair to hold you close. The scent of the lake and its flowers have soaked into your dress, your hair. He loves it. “I love you.”

The words shock so that you sit up straight, blinking fast. You stare, examine for the cheeky smile or cocky glint in his eyes, but none is there. The god’s face is wholly sincere; eyes hopeful as he awaits a response. Your head says it’ll end badly like the others, but your heart… “I love you too, Loki.”

Relief washes over his face, then joy, then passion as he pulls you back down. This kiss is softer, slower…this kiss you savor together. His hands creep up your thighs, spread the skirt of your dress out further, before turning in. Fingers brush your sex, but nothing else. Instead his hands go to free a burgeoning erection.

You can smell it on him; the arousal. Smells of sweat and desire, whiffs of pre-cum as you roll hips to tease across his length. You can smell your own too; its juices spreading across his cock to make every movement easier, more pleasurable, than the last. With a break of the kiss his moan spills from your mouth into the air. “I want you here…now…”

“Then have me…I’ll not stop you,” Loki pants with a smile.

“For all to see.” You did not need nor want his magic to keep you hidden from prying eyes. Let them pry, let them see he is yours…and you are his. If you’re to be considered an animal, a beastly thing, then you’ll sure as hell give good cause for it…and let others know that’s precisely how Loki likes it. How he loves you.

Delighting in your eager desire for him Loki grins into the next kiss. Then he relaxes back, merely admiring the view as you shift to align the head of his cock with your entrance. The fabric of your dress ruffles in the wind, giving the feel of a cabaret tease as only glimpses of glittering-wet sex flash before him. His tongue flicks out across lips as eyes key in and arousal grows.

You catch him watching and give a smirk, lift front of dress over thighs, and let him see. See the slickness of his own cock, covered in your juices, as it leaks pre-cum. See how your excitement continues to roll down your thighs, drip onto his leather trousers, unable to be contained. Taking his hands you set them to hold your hem at your hips, making the slipping of his tip inside a true show.

He groans loud, pulsates dangerously inside of you, and you pause. Wait until this new wave of desire fills and fades from your senses. This needs to last. Only when Loki’s self-control returns do you retake control for both of you. Slide down his length, let him watch as he disappears inside your tight warmth. When he tries to let the dress drop, you place your hands over his to hold them there.

“For all to see,” you repeat in a smirked growl. You keep the pace teasingly slow, tighten muscles so that he can feel every ridge and dip you have. You indulge in the under-the-breath groans and sighs he lets out, the way your name puffs like a prayer from his lips, and the ever-growing scent of his arousal. If you focus you swear you can smell, feel, his juices mixing with yours inside your cunt.

Desperate for more he fists the dress, your hips underneath, in bruising strength. He bucks up into you, hisses exhales as muscles tense. He needs more, just a little, just enough to keep from the torture of the edge. A hand finally escapes yours to grip ass and impale you so you yelp.

You growl, move to bite the leather that covers his chest. “You wanna come, that it?” You tease, letting him shove and buck again. “I can smell it on you,” you confess with a slight chuckle, relenting to him in a quicker pace. “Tell me, Loki…” You shift a hand between your thighs, moan out as you touch your clit so that you twitch and a new flood of excitement drenches his crotch. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours…” Any semblance of control, self or otherwise, leaves with those words. While gracious enough to allow you to remain on top, Loki becomes fully in charge of when, where, and how you move. Both hands return to your hips as he begins to practically lift and drop you onto his cock with barely a break between impales. 

Muscles already strained turn to twitching so that you must plant hands on his chest to keep balance. Low growls turn to loud yelps and cries as you start to shake all over. You curse out as he hits that one spot most don’t think exists, hits it again and grinds up into it. 

Loki’s jaw clenches, eyes go red and roll back to close, as his mind blanks to bliss. Mouth wide, voice pitched into nothingness, you lock over him, cunt pulsating in waves of warmth from him. Even after drained he remains inside of you. Bodies melt and hearts steady; he catches your lips in a heady kiss before relaxing back once more. He hasn’t the energy for anything else at the moment.

You set your head on his chest, purr in satisfaction. “You know, if you break my heart, I’ll rip yours out.”

“If I break your heart, I’ll rip it out myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the idea of switching things up and having the Reader’s possessiveness come up first and having them sorta the “you’re mine!” rather than, well, Loki...hope you all did as well. :-)


	5. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s really, **really** , good.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has food in naughty places where it shouldn't be, please don't try at home.

“Must you do that?” Loki asks in a stiff voice.

You look over mid-lick, confused. “What?”

“Eat like that?”

Presuming it’s an insult on manners you narrow eyes. “Must you dress like a 17th century vampire at a Midgard park?”

He lifts his head a fraction, blinks under sunglasses, then arches brow in his turn to you. “Careful pet, I’m strained as is.”

“Strained? How the hell are you…” the cold of the Creamsicle hits your chest, you note his eyes following with yours. It’s not the first drop, it’s the one that finally causes the cream to slip down between cleavage. “Ooooh…” You lick lips, curl them into a smirk. “What’s the matter, Mischief Man, you enjoying my eating ice cream a little too much?”

“Don’t.”

It’s a warning you blatantly ignore as you collect the sticky-sweet liquid from breast with two fingers and slowly slip them into your mouth. “MMmmm…” you damn near giggle, intentionally moving fingers in and out, making greedy sounds. Only after soaked in your spit do you remove them, swipe them along more of the melted cream on your breast, and practically offer it up. “Care for a taste? It’s really, **really** , good.”

Loki stares, but doesn’t move. You can smell it though, that hint of arousal in his sweat. You know he’s holding his breath, that he’s shifting fractions in attempt to prevent a full hard-on.

“All right, I’ll stop,” you laugh, putting the whole Popsicle in your mouth and pulling off it so there’s just the stick left. “See, all done and not a drop spilled.” You give another chuckle as you get up. “I’m gonna clean up, just stay here and try to cool down.” You wink, saunter off.

Slipping into the public restroom, you begin to wash up. It’s a mean tease, one you’ll pay for and you know it, but that’s half the fun. And when the air shifts, you sense a presence predatory as yours, you know your payment is due. “You know this is the ladies’ room, right?”

“It’s closed.” His voice rumbles out. “It’s just us.” He half-purrs, making you do the same. With a smirk you reach for a paper towel…faster than lightening his hand stops yours, spins you to face him. Loki doesn’t say another word, instead his mouth dives, tongue snakes out and drags itself across the top of your chest collecting ice cream not yet cleaned off.

Words fall into a growl as his tongue chills across your chest, hardens nipples, spreads tingles all the way to your sex. It gives you a rush that leaves you unaware of the formation of your tiger collar around your neck…until he yanks it, digging leather against windpipe enough your growl becomes a mewl.

He smirks seeing pupils dilate as he pulls harder, walks you back onto the dirty counter. “Remove your bottoms.” It’s not a request and comes with a firm hand directing your movements, disallowing any deviance from what he wants. “Sit.” Again, he doesn’t wait, he pushes in until you’re pinned with no option but to hop up on the counter. “Keep hands there.” On the counter.

His eyes tint red, giving you just a glimpse of his Frost Giant form. It’s a side he rarely shows; even now you’ve yet to see him fully in that form. “Spread for your master then close your eyes” He tugs the collar to ensure obedience.

First it’s just a vague cooling of the air; the scent of clean crispness mixing with the heat of you. His breath chills your lips as hand tightens on the collar. He wants you still, you just aren’t sure why. You feel cold between your thighs, then you smell a sweetness. Orange and cream. “Loki…”

“Shhh…”

You nearly choke yourself against the collar as the freeze jolts your whole body. Your mouth falls open, every muscle tightens in a squirm that even Loki has trouble controlling. It’s beyond cold, causing shivers from head to toes to cunt where the ice cream remains buried.

Your master stands firm, hand holding collar tighter. “Shhhh..shhh…” His breath cools the sweat breaking out across your face.

“Fuckfuckfuck…” it’s a hissed mess as you feel the frozen treat slide back out of you. As fast as the cold shook, it fades in the heat of your cunt.

Loki’s mouth covers yours as he rubs the tip of the Popsicle against your clit. He keeps it cold, freezes it as fast as it melts, so its sweetness only just coats your sex. Finally satisfied you’ll obey hand goes from collar to shirt, tears it loose enough to expose bra, free a breast.

A shared growl vibrates your mouths as he slides the iced treat inside of you again. Pumps it in and out like a cock; first at a slow and steady pace, then much faster. Fast enough you’re chilled to the bone even as you pant and sweat like during a hard fuck. Your juices coat its length as shocks of cold bring you to a near constant shiver.

Instinct drives you to lift a leg, set it on the edge of the counter, and the new angle causes a cry to spill out your lips into his. You open eyes, watch the orange and white disappear inside your cunt only to glide back out dripping wet. A wave of sheer pleasure flows out across the treat and Loki’s hand.

He catches your eye as he pulls off the kiss, halts the Popsicle still inside you. “Again you disobey.” His free hand turns the faintest blue as icy fingers pinch exposed nipple so that you squeak.

“I-I wanna…”

“You want to what?” He asks, lazily turning his wrist to spin the pop. You don’t, can’t, answer, and he presses it deeper inside. “Answer me, pet.”

“I wanna come,” you blurt out, thoughts scrambling as his head dips, tongue like ice flicking at your nipple.

The chuckle is dark, taunting, as he restarts the torture of a slower pace. “Beg.”

“Please.” He increases the pace only slightly. “Please, Loki…Please.” The pace increases further and you realize, with each plea, he’ll reward with speed. So the pleases spill from you as hands fist, jaw clenches, thighs shake, and hips attempt to thrust. Your roar starts deep in the pit of your chest before it’s caught at your throat as Loki yanks collar hard enough your whole body bows back.

“Come now or not at all.” He commands before chilling your whole breast with his mouth, nearly giving nipple frostbite with teeth and tongue.

It rushes out of you at his order; the roar and the floods. It squirts out as cunt clamps across icy treat; if Loki pulls it out now it’ll stay inside you, leaving only the stick. He doesn’t though; he watches you lose control to him instead. He takes in the sight of tears streaming down your face, mouth open without sound, as your orgasm makes you nothing but a weepy mess for him to enjoy.

When you reopen your eyes Loki’s grinning in utter delight. Triumph. His eyes enjoy the shock in yours as he slowly removes the creamier-than-ever treat and, very slowly, slides it into his own mouth. It’s his turn to tease, slurp, and make greedy noises. “You were right…it’s very, **very** , good.” He chuckles, continues to enjoy the taste of you on the Popsicle, before putting the tip to your mouth. “Have a taste.”

You smell yourself mixed with orange and open to obey, let your master slide the treat in, as you share a growling moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear "Tiger" has not been harmed by Loki’s cold and will not suffer repercussions from their unsanitary acts with the ice cream; she has a high pain tolerance and heals quickly (much like Wolverine, Sabertooth, and X-23).


	6. July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You are mine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated, be aware.

There’s an urge to tell Loki about the trip, but the urge not to is stronger. Your life on Earth’s always been less-than-stellar and your friends are…not Loki’s type. For one, most were men. You simply fit in better with males whether mutant or not; you found women much too catty, no pun intended. Beyond that though, it’s a past you’d rather not have been a part of, let alone have Loki exposed to. So, instead, you go back alone. Clean out your place, check in with a few that truly care, then hit your old stomping ground - Sister Margaret’s - to forget the whole event.

He finds you there, sharing drinks with Victor. “You must be Loki.” Creed grins in malevolent delight; the god was already lock-jawed and glaring. “Gotta say, I’m surprised. Didn’t think Tigger here would go for someone so…pretty. I mean, have your balls even dropped yet?”

The look in Loki’s eyes makes your gut clench. You’ve seen him angry, jealous, but this is something different. It looks like he’s about to tear not just Creed, but the whole world, apart.

“Shut the fuck up, Vic.” It’s half-order, half-warning.

“I just can’t believe this is the guy you domesticate yourself, turn frail, for?” Victor’s voice is lazy as he keys up for another dig; he leans in for it. “Sure you can handle our girl? I could always break her in for ya…again.”

“ENOUGH!!“ Loki roars, all attempts to fit in leaving in a blast. A blast that sends everyone, including yourself, flying across the bar. His clothing, his hair, even the shine in his eyes return to their true Asgardian glory. He’s battle ready and eager. …Most stay still, unsure or unconscious, but those who can scatter.

“Fuck…” You get up slow, teeth and claws growing on instinct. Tears and blood drip onto the floor as pain and anger at both men swirl. If this didn’t underline why you never wanted past and present to collide, nothing did.

“HOW DARE YOU LIE WITH THAT BEAST!!” Loki stomps across cracked wood and shattered glass. Fingers fist in your hair, nearly lift you off the ground. “You are mine! Not that pathetic animal’s!! MINE!!”

Instinct kicks in and your hand flies; claw marks weep the god’s blood. Eyes darken, breath deepens to a growl, and for a moment you think he might strike you back. Instead he drags you to the nearest table still standing and pins you over it by the back of the neck. He reeks of adrenaline - desire, rage, but there’s a hint of something that’s rarely there…Fear.

“Loki…” It’s a beg, a warning, as the urge to fight kicks up. You shift weight, prepare to throw him off like you would any other, but barely get a fraction of an inch off the wood before your head slams back down. You forgot how much stronger your god is than you, than anyone you’ve met before. You growl, try to keep calm. You display hands out, attempt to settle those you sense might want to play hero.

“I should kill him…” Loki’s tone is neither godly nor human; it’s a hiss with tongue tracing the outer curvature of your ear. “But, perhaps, death is too good for him…too easy for you.” His eyes flick about stunned onlookers in delight, fall back down to your submissive form. “I’ve a better idea…” Hand grabs the back of your jeans, yanks them down to brush fingers between cheeks as he buries teeth into the back of your shoulder until a howling gasp escapes your lips.

Claws dig into wood, your breath holds, as the smell of him intensifies. The scent triggers more than flight or fight, but an urge that’s equally primal. It flickers in the blood stream, kicks up heart and warms cunt. Loki means to fuck you, in front of everyone, and the feral in you excites at the thought. The other parts of you, however… “Loki, stop…”

Cool steel freezes you as it cuts easily through cotton underwear. “Shhhh, shh shh….” It dances across the roundness of your ass, leaving fast-closing thin red lines. “My beautiful Tiger…” a flick of his wrist and it shivers up your spine, slicing through shirt and bra, until it reaches neck. “You are mine…” Blade switches hands, presses against your throat, as his weight crushes from above. “Best you don’t fight.”

Even with legs locked slightly by jeans caught at the knees, Loki manages to slide free fingers between your thighs. The shudder travels from you to him; a moan travels back as juices soak his fingers.

“I could fuck you right now with how wet you are,” he chuckles in your ear, his breath fogging the blade as his hardness grows against your ass. “Think they’d enjoy seeing that?” His eyes search until he finds the other; there’s a flash of rage that presses the knife into your skin a fraction, then it relaxes into amusement. “What about you…would you like to see that?”

You glance up; Creed’s healed, half-smiling, as he looks the scene over - you bent over the dirty table, clothes barely hanging on, with Loki in full Asgardian regalia and blade at your throat. He shrugs. “Does it matter?” Fucker can’t even fold now.

Loki chuckles darkly at the antagonistic nature of the statement; he presumes Creed doesn’t think he’ll do it, but Creed simply knows you’ll survive it. Survive the blade against your windpipe, survive the way Loki stomps your jeans farther down, and the force with which, once free, his cock rams into you.

Lifted onto toes by the force, knees nearly buckle as he pulls back slow only to ram again. It’s the pattern he uses to tease, to make you want more…to piss you off in that slow build of desire he’ll refuse to give into until you’re begging. It’s also a way to ensure everyone can see what he’s doing and how much you love it.

The knife fades only so Loki can hold you by the throat himself, crushed between thumb and forefinger, jabbing hard on each thrust. Moans are cut off, breaths are grunts, and occasionally feet slip out from under you so that only Loki holds you up. Fingers of his other hand continue to tease, gather, juices from your cunt until they’re coated. “Say my name…” he orders.

“Loki…” It’s a whined moan as, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction, instinct drives your hips to meet his cock.

“…Louder…”

“Loki!” You’re rewarded with a slightly faster pace, one that scuffs the table along the floor. “Fuck…Loki…”

But it’s not completely about you, not this time. It’s about him, them. “Seems she’s already breaking…” the god chuckles to the rival mutant.

Creed makes an incredulous face, snorts, as he grabs a chair to plop into. “She’s still talking.”

The next thrust Loki gives has you digging nails into the table just to keep it from flying across the room. You start to back into him as hard as he thrusts into you and, when his fingers move faster over your clit, your huffs turn to howls. Arousal runs down the inside of your thighs, legs, and you can hear Creed lick his lips…given half a chance he’d shove the hard-on he’s no doubt got in your mouth, you’re sure of it.

When Loki’s pace and force turn driving you start to veer towards the edge. Claws dig farther, hips try to keep up, and knees shake in effort to remain standing. Now your words are gone; Loki’s name is nothing save long, hot, groans. You don’t even have time to miss those skilled fingers over your clit before two of them slip easily into your asshole. The sensation, the fullness, overwhelms.

Loki’s body clenches with yours, cock swelling as your cunt cinches. You’ve never felt tighter, wetter, hotter than you do now. You’ve never been more his and you’ve never been more arousing to him. He’d stay like this, live in you, if he could.

You see stars come and go, his hand throttling as you ride out the shared orgasm together. Cum pumps in and flows out of you for all to see. And let them see; let them see how much your god gives you and how you love it. Let them see you’re wild as ever, even as you’re His.

Fullness remains as Loki’s erection fades. Hand at your throat leaves in favor of the table and you let your head fall there as well. You don’t want Loki to leave your body though; you can’t take the thought of being emptied after being so filled, fulfilled.

“What the fuck?!” A voice bursts into your bliss so that you look up with a growl; then you smirk seeing Wade, unicorn tucked under his arm. “What the fuck did I miss?!”

Creed chuckles. “Quite a show…but I’ve seen better.”

Your grin facilitates between malicious and devious. “No, you haven’t.”

Deadpool scurries into a chair, flicks a lighter, and begins to chant. “Encore! Encore!!”

Loki’s exhale hints at amusement as you laugh…then moan feeling his cock hardening inside you once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiger was not seriously injured or traumatized, she’s a tough one with super-healing who knows Loki’s not always sweet, haha!


	7. August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Let me see.”_

The chill of lips start at your feet, making toes curl, before the kisses travel up to ankles, shins. You let a hand move down between your own legs, brush sensitive bud, moan. You’re wet, wanting, and he’s barely begun. You can feel his gaze taking you in and use the thought as encouragement. Butterfly-open thighs and part lips with one hand as the other continues to rub across clit.

Whatever plans Loki had to go slow, to tease, to worship, falls into a growl. Hands flash-burn to your wrists, pin them at your side. “Mine.” He insists, his mouth covering your mound, turning it frosty before teeth crack through the dew to taste the sweetest heat he knows.

Back arches off the bed, curses are one long groan, as his tongue slips ice into your very core. The feel goes beyond shockingly cold and erotic, it connects on another level. This is him, this is Loki, in his truest form. …If only he’d let you see… Then his tongue swirls your clit and your mind blanks into pleasure.

Loki freezes juices, slowly lets them melt down his throat. He’d have you for every meal if you’d allow; glut himself on your taste until you couldn’t take anymore…now there’s a thought…

“Lo…ki…” You fight through the haze of arousal needing it…needing it more than your own orgasm. “…Lemme…see…fuck…” Lips curl knowing he’s going faster, moaning all the more greedily, as much to distract as anything. Oh, but your God is clever.

So are you, using Loki’s grip on wrists as leverage to sit up. Eyes open to a strange, chilled, fog…Icy cold and burning hot creating an atmosphere only for you two. It makes you smile, but not more than his beauty. Jet-back hair and an intricately lined cobalt back are all you can see as his head bows, hands now holding the bed instead of you. Your smile dies knowing the reason.

Your hand moves cautiously, feeling him start to warm as the blue fades. “Loki, don’t…please…” Fingers comb through hair, touch between heating shoulder-blades, to calm and reassure. “Let me see.” His true skin slowly returns with his chill. You kiss the top of his head, breath in his scent, then lean forward, across his back, as fingers stretch to feel barely-elevated lines. “Let me see more.”

In a rare instance he uses your true name. He’s unsure, worried, you can smell it on him. The fog fades as he wavers, thinking on the monster you’ll see - the real him. “You don’t want to.”

“I know what I want,” you assert kindly, but firmly. Lips seek out blue skin. “I want you…all of you.” You slip a hand to his chest, feel designs dance over racing heart. “I want the Asgardian prince…the God…” The tension begins to lessen as your teeth graze shoulder, tongue tracing pale patterns. “I want my Magic Man…and Woman…“ His smile flickers on. “I want you decked in green and gold and I want you just like this…beautiful in blue.”

Loki hesitates, but finally raises his head. You smile wide. Markings make a crown on his forehead, accent crimson eyes and full lips. Seeing no shock or fear Loki straightens more. The fog rolls back in as he stands up fully before you. There’s only a whiff of insecurity as he watches your eyes trail down his body. He’s never felt exposed nude, but he does now. He’s never been like this in front of another…Not ever.

Your breath turns back to misty puffs that come rapidly as you take him in. The ribbing continues down, making his body art. Art you wish to touch, tease, taste, fuck. You reach out, pull him closer causing him to smile once again. The smile fades into a moan as your fingers trace art down his stomach, across waist, hips, thighs, through black curled hair at his base, and out along his length.

“Fuck,” he half-grunts, thrusting slightly into your hand. There’s the faintest brush of your nails, which cause his jaw to clench and release in an exhilarating mix of pain and pleasure. Blood rushes harder, faster, as you wrap fingers around him, stroke with a moan of your own. Loki grabs a fist’s worth of hair.

Those faint lines of his body are here too, decorating his cock, crisscrossing with now purple-tinted veins. You lick lips, let tongue swipe royal blue tip to collect pre-cum that melts in your mouth. Your true name escapes his lips again; you growl your chuckle before setting hot tongue to his tip again. You let your breath fog out over his length, feel his fist tighten at your scalp.

When you finally let him in, wrap him in the warmth of your mouth and greet him with a hot moan, he nearly cums on the spot. For all his pleasures at teasing you, having you tease him is beyond…it’s near overwhelming, makes him shake in attempts to keep some level of control. To keep from driving his cock down your throat until you choke.

Slowly you take more of him, every inch feeling colder than the previous. Your shared arousal taints the fog; just the scent of it is enough to make you moan, slip hand between thighs once again. You rock hips over your hand, build up friction, as you begin to suck, stroke, in earnest.

Control doesn’t last long; Loki starts to thrust, pull you in via hair, so that he fucks your mouth. His groans, growls, as feral as yours. There’s no way to get enough of you - your heat, your beauty, your love - and it both frustrates and drives him.

To your surprise he shoves you off, grabs and spreads your legs in the air, then slams into your cunt. You yelp, curse, as he cums almost immediately but doesn’t stop for a moment. He pounds hard, fast, throwing you over into first one orgasm, then another, as his cum floods in cold to warm inside of you. As animal as he can get on any fuck, the Frost Giant side brings it to a new level.

Claws dig into the bed itself; as much from the building tension of another climax as to keep you in place. You growl up at the blue beast lording over you, give a tiger’s grin that he returns before eyes shut tight.

Loki roars out the end of his orgasm as you roar into a third. Your legs fall limp and he lands on you, letting his body cool yours just as yours warms his. “You all right?” His voice is hoarse, but gentle.

“Couldn’t give me a fourth, huh?”

He shares the laugh. “A God can only do so much.”

You grow serious. "Don’t ever doubt yourself, Loki. Not with anything. And never doubt I love you…all of you.”

“I won’t if you won’t.” Loki replies just as serious.

“Deal.”


	8. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re bathed in them.”_

You sniff them out in the rocks, thinking themselves hidden in the storm Thor makes of battle. The fear is intoxicating, almost too much not to tear into. Still, it’s so much better when you can play with your food first…

Shifting out of tiger form you scurry, nude and bloody, as if fleeing in terror. You gasp as they jolt, ready to kill, then grab you. They recognize you not as the beast tearing them apart on the field, but as Loki’s woman. Something to be traded for their own lives or destroyed in vengeance. You cower as the leader pulls you against him, whimper as he speaks taunting threats. He grips your hair harshly, snaps your neck back. “And here you are, poor, pretty, little mortal…” Scaled fingers trace down your body; he’s so confident he doesn’t see your lips curl. “Without security, without a weapon.”

“I am the weapon,” you flutter eyes up, watch the horror in his grow as the tiger comes out once again. “What’s the matter?” You balance between woman and beast, fangs and claws mixing with full lips and breasts. “Aren’t I pretty anymore?” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his breath before you tear his throat out, his comrade is similarly relieved of life and insides shortly thereafter. You shake blood from hair and bits of fur, smell your God swirling to you through the gore and mess of battle. It makes you purr.

“Why you wicked little thing,” his voice shakes with adrenaline, arousal coming in hot waves. Tongue slips out to collect his sweat and others’ blood before, in a flash, he’s licking your lips instead. “You’re bathed in them.” Loki’s hand pets through thick, red-coated, fur crawling up your neck as the other grabs ass. Something about it gets his blood rushing; it’s the casual brutality, the strength behind it. It’s that you too revel in the chaos.

You sense a change in him, one that makes your blood charge forward, stomach catch fire. Loki shape-shifts your way, his kisses coming with fangs and grip with claws. Black hair develops stripes, clothes fade into skin and fur to compliment yours. You purr appreciation, he replies in kind.

Loki presses in, kisses hard, uses blood to make the travel of his hand between cheeks easier. You gasp-growl as hand slaps ass and fangs pierce your throat. His claws cut their way from neck, down chest, to stomach; touch turning careful only as he reaches the thick patch of fur between your thighs. “Tyger, Tyger…” he chuckles hoarsely, letting the animal be heard in his words.

Impatience brings out a roar and, in a flash, you take each other down, ignoring the dead, as it becomes a mad, primal, tussle. Fangs drip blood, taste the chill of his from shoulder and chest with a heated moan. He’s beautiful like this and you know it’s how he sees you…wild, dangerous, indescribably beautiful.

His claws sink into thigh and hips, teeth into breasts around the nipples. Loki’s marks linger, trickle blood, as he lets his full strength be felt. You’ll heal, but he could tear you apart. Something in that makes you wet, dripping as he snarls and flashes bloodied fangs. Loki flips and buries deep so that you howl.

The scruff of your neck fits perfectly in his jaws and every attempt to move is met with a clenching of teeth. The beauty’s no longer in the fuck, but the preternatural joining itself. Not human, not animal, nothing but the creatures you and Loki are. Ass high, knees grinding into the dirt, you buck back to enjoy the full shock of his thrusts.

Furry hands cover yours, grasp skin and gravel as clawed fingers intertwine with yours. His voice gutters that you’re his, he’s yours. For once his body is warm, breath hot, there’s sweat running off him onto you. “Marry me.”

“Yes.” The response, like the question, is gut instinct. A visceral desire verbalized.

“Yes?” Loki huffs for confirmation.

“Yes.” Your clawed fingers wrap further with his, teeth bare in a smile. “Loki…” Tears form, tension swells.

Teeth release neck, one arm swings to hold you to him, fingers losing their claws to find your clit. “I…lo-love…you.”

“I-I love y-y-yooouuuu…” It’s another roared-howl as your body locks into a shake as you come, juices coating him, splashing the rocks underneath.

His hot release starts inside, then spills out across thighs and ass. You can smell it, smell him, all around you…Filling your nostrils as he mixes with you inside and out. The smell of him drowns out everything, everyone, else. Shivers run across as his mouth finds the back of your neck again, as he bites and kisses out of his animal form. “Shall we tell the others?”

You laugh breathlessly as you finish your return to womanhood. “Maybe after we’ve cleaned and redressed?”

“Oh no, my beautiful Tiger…” He lets himself slip out as he lifts you in his standing. Hand curling slightly in the sex-coated curls between your thighs he chuckles. “We stay like this, smelling of each other…” He grins at your latest moan, knowing what the thought does to you.

“Loki?!” Thor’s voice calls out nearby; Loki and you both growl irritation. “Brother, where’ve you gone? The battle is done!” The God of Thunder calls for you next.

Deep breath to stay calm, then you turn in Loki’s arms to smile. “Perhaps some clothes though?”

“He’s seen my ass before,” Loki dismisses with a smirk.

“Be that as it may,” you laugh. “Do you want him to see mine? Do you want your brother to see the woman you’ll marry nude? Bared for his eyes to take in and enjoy?”

“…You’re manipulating me.” Loki’s no fool, still…A dress forms, covers your body, as Loki returns to his battle armor. “I’m impressed.”

“So am I.” Loki gave you no undergarments, the right angle and anyone could see you as you truly are…Bathed in your Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the balance in, by turning into a half-man/half-tiger form, Loki's accepting/desiring/encouraging Tiger’s nature just as Tiger did with Loki’s Jotun nature in August


	9. Mid-Month Drabble 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It’s a stupid tradition."_

“Thor, I’m pretty sure Loki and I wouldn’t be fooling anyone,” you laugh a touch.

“Still, it’s a tradition.”

“It’s a stupid tradition,” you insist with a smile. “Here and on Midgard.”

“Be that as it may, it is tradition. Traditions are important, they have meaning whether one realizes it or not.”

You sigh, look over at him. “Thor…why do you care? Tradition aside, what does it matter to you whether or not Loki and I abstain from now until the wedding night?”

The god suddenly loses his bright smile to thought, his head drops. “Because it’s not about others. The meaning is for the both of you, no one else.”

“…And what is the meaning?” You didn’t follow; sex is fun, a way to release excess energy, a way to connect. What could not having it possibly matter…why avoid something you and Loki both enjoyed so immensely?

He looks up once more, turns eyes to you. “Enjoyable though it may well be, it loses all meaning after some time, does it not?” You don’t answer, he continues. “Perhaps, after waiting, after a wedding, the meaning will return. Even grow.” Thor turns further into you. “I love my brother, I love you as I do family…I want your love to last, your vows to matter. I want nothing between the two of you to be taken for granted.“

The smile comes slow, but genuine. You pat his knee, kiss his cheek. “You’re a good man, Thor. And, if you think it’ll help us…I’ll make the effort, okay?” You don’t promise, you almost never promise.

Thor smiles brightly once more.

“…But you have to tell Loki.”

“What? What for?”

“It’s the price you pay for being the idea man, I’m afraid.”

Loki might obey your wishes, be more amendable to the idea if it’s from your lips, but he’ll never buy it…he’ll know it was Thor anyway. Best to cut out the middle man.


	10. Mid-Month Drabble 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I warned you not to accept his challenge,”_

Loki curses and cringes his way into the tub unsure which is more battered, his body or his pride. …Seems a toss up…

“I warned you not to accept his challenge,” you note with a smile that quickly turns sympathetic at the winced thud Loki gives finally settling in.

“You didn’t tell me why,” Loki grumbles back, half pouting.

“Maybe I thought my word was enough for you?”

He sighs, grunts as aching muscles attempt to reach the washcloth. “It should have been, I know, I just…”

“Still thought you could beat him….trick him,” you offer before taking a chair and the cloth to settle at his head. “Relax back, Magic Man.”

This time he just does as you say. Closes his eyes to listen and feel. Feel the brush of your arm as you slip cloth into bath water and hear the drips as you ring out the excess. Feel fingers comb gently through hair, more gently when he winces at the snarl of bloody locks you hit….

— It’d been such a foolish thing to do, but he’d felt it a lock. Her fellow mutant showed no extraordinary abilities, merely that he could not feel pain. That knives and knocks made no impact. Loki did not need such things, all he needed was a bit of magic and a godly hit….and, before he realized, he’d been slammed about as if the man were Banner’s inner beast! —

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain,” you admit as the cloth comes back red from where hairline meets neck. “I thought, at worst, he’d sucker punch you and move on.”

Loki only hisses through the sting of the cut hit again, then hums as the cloth is dunked nearby and begins to wipe arms, shoulders. “Perhaps I should have you repay me?”

You chuckle. “If only we hadn’t agreed to Thor’s request.”

“You agreed, I was roped into it.”

“And, clever as you are, I’m sure you’ll slip right out of those ropes the moment you can,” you tease before pressing the cloth into his hand. “In the meantime, hands to yourself, you wicked little thing.”

Hair dips in water as you lean over, find his split lips with yours. The kiss is careful, chaste, and when he tries to deepen it, pull you closer, you only purr and pull away. Taking the shampoo you begin to suds Loki’s black hair until soapy white.

Eyes reopen. “Did you bed him?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Tiger.”

With a sigh you gather water with a nearby cup. “Orson is completely devoted to his wife and, more importantly, I am devoted to you.”

“Completely?”

“In every form and universe there is, my love.” Without care for the floor or yourself you pour water slowly across his forehead and down through his hair to rinse it clean. Water rolls down onto your lap and legs, the chair, the floor where a pink puddle is made. “And you?”

“Mortally so.”

The words cause a strange terror to seize your heart. “Loki?”

“Mmm?” He’s too relaxed to catch the sudden worried tone.

“Promise me, if…if something should happen, if you know something might, to tell me, okay? At least…tell me.”

Loki looks up slow, smiling. “What in the nine realms could possibly happen?”

“…Anything…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to show Tiger taking of Loki and have them be intimate without having sex…also that Loki could well be beaten by a select few of her fellow mutant friends. (Orson is not a canon character, but an original.)


	11. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Well, I have to do something to keep myself busy.”_

“LOKI!!!” There’s hints of femininity along with the perfume you wear mixed into Loki’s scent and you know what he’s done. You know exactly what he’s done. You stalk through the palace, hunt down the halls; senses keened, feral heart primed for the take down. “LOKI!!!” You turn the corner and there she is.

Loki’s eyes drag from their admiration of the throne to you. In his traditional female form she gives that perfectly taunting smile. “Ah, my Tiger…” Red lips lift, forest eyes laugh. “I thought I heard you roaring for me.”

Your heart kicks up looking her over. It’s not the first time you’ve seen this form, but it’s the first like this. With all the extra testosterone that comes with being a feral male. With a clearly visible way of showing your arousal to anyone. Eyes close, you focus on anything you can to keep control…but you can smell her sex even from here. “Care to explain?””

“Well, I have to do something to keep myself busy.” The teasing pout’s in her voice, then the Cheshire grin. “I thought this might be fun…you know, for Midgardian Halloween.”

“Did you now?” Reopening your eyes you return to circling your prey.

“You look good in my clothes.”

“So do you…” you smirk back, slowing your approach to enjoy. Her, the strut this particular body creates, the realization that, yes, you were in his clothing. Black leather, green and gold trim; there was something in it that gave you metaphorical balls to go with the ones you currently had. “It’s a shame, to be honest, I loved that dress.”

“Loved?”

A growl leaks into your laugh as you settle within inches of her. You place a single, clawed, finger at the hollow of her neck. Another growl as you breathe deep for control. The thought of having her in every way, filling every hole, was enough to feel tightness swell in your chest and trousers. Licking lips the finger travels down, cuts the dress clean down the middle from throat to navel.

Her jaw tightens, lips twist in delight, as the trail leaks crimson. Fingers collect a few droplets to taste. “I could sigh on your neck and you’d come, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s not where I want your mouth..” you smirk, hand following where claw just marked. You tear the rest of the dress in two, let the scraps pool at Loki’s feet. The scent hits hard, aches the hardness of your cock.

That wicked little grin she has in any form appears bright across her face. “Oh really?” She steps, closes all space, sets soft and delicate fingers under the high-collared leather. Your pulse is jack-hammering, breath holding. “And where would you like it, my wicked little thing?”

“Loki…” you fake insult. “You should know as well as I that there’s nothing little about me at the moment.” In a flash you have her by the hair, enjoy the chilled air from her mouth just millimeters from yours. Lips curl over fangs in delight as she shakes against your body, hands already going just where you both know they ought to. “Kneel.”

Hands continue to work trousers, leave them open until you give hair a tug enough Loki yelps. The minute she touches you nearly regret it though. It’s too much. The hunt had you primed, her vision hard, now the touch has you jumping back slightly.

“What’s the matter, my love?” She coos a tease, dropping to her knees with a smug little smirk. Even as a woman, softly curved from lips to ass, Loki is forever cocky. “I’m merely doing as ordered…” Fingers skim from base to tip and your head spins.

More as soft tongue gives a teasing lick, as lips press in and hum, as Loki’s gaze stays locked in yours. You growl out curses with each inch taken into hot, wet, mouth; head falls back as she puckers, hollows out cheeks in her suck. She’s skilled, too skilled for you to handle, as body heat, desire, and tension soar with cock and balls. You cling to her, claws curling into hair, as much to maintain balance as to maintain contact…control fell by the wayside the moment she touched you.

Loki seems to know, know how close you are, and pulls off with a playfully wet pop. Your panting moan turns to a frustrated growl as thoughts of taking her, forcing her to finish what she’s begun, cloud your mind. Cock twitches painfully, leaks in its need for release; you can barely think through desire to have her. In fact, you don’t think as you snap Loki’s neck back. “…Please…” You hiss desperation; she smiles only to fade in your hands.

Reappearing nude on the throne you move to pounce, but a single raise of her hand pauses you. “We made a promise to Thor, do you wish to keep it?” If it weren’t for the serious expression and tone you’d have thought it a tease.

“I do.” You confess. It’s a stupid idea, whether you abstain from sex or not can’t possibly make a difference in your enjoyment of the wedding night, but you still want to stick it through. On the surface you wanna prove Thor wrong; deep down you want Thor to prove you wrong. “…Do you?”

“As much as I enjoy irritating Thor…” Loki spreads her legs wide with a smirk. “I think I do as well.”

“And you think that display’s gonna help?”

She laughs, fingers graze between breasts. “Well, no one said we couldn’t touch ourselves.” Eyes nearly glow with predatory delight as her hands continue down concave stomach and out around muscled thighs. “You too, Tiger…I want to see how much you enjoy this, desire me as much as I do you.”

It’s a strange thing, exploring your body when it’s not truly yours. Loki made you well, he took your natural form into consideration, but it was still odd to feel hairy chest and six-pack and love trail all so obvious in male form. It was strange to see unshaved legs and thick cock jutting out from tiger-striped curls. Upon touching you find you’ve got some weight to you, veins pulse hot in your hand, and it’s as sensitive as clit.

“Stroke…” Loki instructs, her own fingers merely teasing at her clit. “Take all that glory leaking from you and use it.” She bites lip, makes a display of slipping fingers inside of herself.

The instructions help, the visual more, as you gather up pre-cum and use it to aid the smoothness of hand across member. You think on the hand-jobs you’ve given Loki, think on all those tricks that would drive him to the edge and then over. Focusing on Loki, spread eagle and moaning softly on the throne, you find a rhythm that brings only pleasure. Breath grows heaving, cursing, as you lean on the nearest pillar for stability. “Loki…” you imagine her mouth once more around your cock, add pressure.

“Ti-Ti…” her head falls back, hips jerk up into her own fingers, hand.

The sensations seem to go from blaze to inferno; so extreme so fast you arch as tension overwhelms and releases. You barely remain standing as cum fires out across hand and floor. Unlike your lover’s, it’s distinctly hot. Its scent spreads throughout the throne room, mixes with Loki’s in the air as she cries out for her Tiger.

Cock shrinks, goes limp, in your hand as the rest of your body does the same. You melt down the pillar to sit, watch as Loki lounges in post-orgasmic bliss on the throne. Only once your breath begins to steady do you speak. “What do I taste like?”

Loki chuckles. “Much as you do when a woman, only more masculine…at least from what I could tell. Perhaps, one day, we’ll explore these forms together even more.”

“What do you taste like?”

Her head tilts, she smirks as she offers up two fingers. “Care to find out?”

“LOKI!!” Thor roars from the entrance so that you jump up, scramble around the pillar in hopes of avoiding detection in your current state. “Don’t try to hide yourself, man!” The god of thunder orders crossly.

“Thor, that’s Tiger,” Loki notes casually. As you peek in her direction you see he’s still female, but now fully dressed. You look down and realize you’re also fully dressed. Loki’s magic really was a blessing as you realize Thor is berating Loki for being on the throne, not desecrating it.

Words finally sink in through Thor’s rage and he starts to chuckle. “Tiger is a man?”

“It’s Halloween.” Loki notes.

“Show yourself, Tiger, let me see!” All anger’s faded in interest.

“It’s her favorite holiday.” Loki explains, leaving the throne. “I thought it might be fun…make her feel more at home.“

With a deep breath in, then out, you slip out of hiding to see Thor. You try not to look at Loki, you don’t trust your body to behave with its fast recovery. “Thor.”

“By gods, you’re a strapping lad, aren’t you?!” Thor seems to admire the form. “I love it! You should join us for dinner as such tonight.” He turns to his brother. “I’m not above a bit of fun at Father and Mother’s expense, you know.”

“Of course not, brother.” She smiles.

Thor nods, then grows a touch serious again. “But stay off the throne, Loki. ‘Tis not yours to sit upon.”

“Of course, brother…” Her eyes slip to yours. “We’d never do anything to disrespect Father’s rightful place upon it.” She winks.

You purr a chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to shake things up, let everyone enjoy a bit of Lady Loki, and find a creative way around that promise of abstinence to Thor. (I was also quite pleasantly surprised that, ultimately, Loki wanted to keep said promise...quite sweet really.)


End file.
